ONLY a few days now remained until the British mandate over Palestine expired. Tension had reached the exploding point. The United Nations Trusteeship Council showed marked impotence. First, it proposed a truce, which neither side obeyed. Then it tried to postpone partition. There was a proposal to send United States Marines to enforce-no one was sure what. The Council suggested a special British High Commissioner to rule over Jerusalem. Later it thought a Red Cross official might do better. A dozen last-minute schemes and a hundred speeches were delivered in an atmosphere of great theatrical importance-but far removed from the reality in Palestine.

At Lake Success, Sir Alexander Cadogan, the British delegate, read a telegram to the Security Council stating that "all units of the Arab Legion had left Palestine for Trans-Jordan prior to the end of the Mandate." I smiled when I read this. For I had seen the Arab Legion in Gaza, in Hebron and in Katamon.

Far better than I, the defenders of Kfar Etzion had tasted the sting of Legion guns. They, too, knew the truth. . . . For weeks these settlers in their hilltop kibbutzim had beaten back assaults by the Arab Legion and guerrilla bands. At four a.m. on May 12 -- two days before the Mandate's end -- guerrillas joined with Arabs from Hebron and the Arab Legion to launch an all-out attack on Kfar Etzion with two battalions and two thousand irregulars. They hammered at the isolated community and its 164 men and women defenders, with cannon, mortars, and heavy machine-guns. The tanks charged sixteen times, followed by wave after wave of howling fanatics. Kfar Etzion sent desperate calls: "Tanks penetrated our rear into the farmyard. . . . Overrunning the dining-room and children's house. . . . Swarming in from all sides." Ferocious hand-to-hand fighting followed. When Kfar Etzion fell, the Arabs found sixty-two dead, forty-two gravely wounded, and three survivors. The rest had fled to the three adjoining kibbutzim -- making a combined defensive force of about 350 Jews.

In the next few days these kibbutzim, too, underwent Kfar Etzion's fate. After their surrender they were plundered and burned. Thus ended the tragic saga of Kfar Etzion, the first major triumph of the British-trained, British-armed, British-led, so-called Arab Legion -- while at Lake Success and in London, British spokesmen soberly repeated that the English and the Legion had pulled out of Palestine.

On the night of May 13, the last night of the British mandate -- the night before the Jews would proclaim the establishment of the first independent Jewish State in two thousand years -- I stood watching the burning buildings of Kfar Etzion glowering against the sky. The ravished settlement was symbolic of the Holy Land, a Holy City set afire by the torches of colonialism. I watched far into the night, then went downstairs and prepared for bed. Moustafa and I slept on adjoining cots. I lay on my cot. Moustafa was removing his jacket.

"I feel suddenly frightened, Moustafa. I cannot explain why."

"It is because you are afraid of the future. You will see that the Arabs will win. Allah is on our side."

"Do you still believe what you said about Tel Aviv?"

"Of course. Every Arab believes it. Every Arab knows that we will be in Tel Aviv one month from tomorrow. We will sit in the cafes by the sea, drink coffee . . . eat baklawa and enjoy the Jewish girls!"

"And hang all the Haganah from the trees?"

"Yes, I am sure of it."

He paused for a moment, and grew confidential.

"Artour, I can now tell you our big plans, since they are not secret any more. The Egyptian armies have already crossed into Palestine, and beginning tomorrow will march on Jerusalem and on Tel Aviv. The Arab Legion will march on Tel Aviv from the east and meet the Egyptians coming from the south. The Syrians and Lebanese armies will attack from the north and northwest, and march on Tel Aviv also. The Iraqi regulars will support the Syrians and Arab Legion. You can see" -- and here Moustafa, quite excited, drew out a piece of paper and traced the plan roughly -- "how the Arabs will come all together at one time on Tel Aviv!" He looked at me triumphantly. "Are you frightened now, Artour?" he said, blowing out the candle, and thumping into bed.

In the darkness I said: "No, Moustafa, I believe you."...

...Could 650,000 Jews defy the might of forty-five million Arabs, the massed might of the Arab armies?...